


A Musical Evening with Sherlock Holmes

by maiden_aunt (SCFrankles)



Series: Evadne & Hilda's Holmesian Adventures [1]
Category: Dear Ladies, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: intoabar, Gen, Humor, Mild Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/maiden_aunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hilda and Evadne are putting on a performance of "A Musical Evening with Sherlock Holmes". But when Hilda injures herself, Evadne needs to find another Irene Adler...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Musical Evening with Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [A Ficathon Goes Into a Bar](http://intoabar.livejournal.com/), Spring 2015.
> 
> Hinge and Bracket were created by Patrick Fyffe and George Logan. _Dear Ladies_ was written by Fyffe and Logan, and Gyles Brandreth, and produced by the BBC.
> 
> Irene Adler is the creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
> 
> * * *

Dame Hilda stepped forward on the tiny stage and threw her arms wide.

“Oh, you can just feel the atmosphere and sense of history! All the performers and all the characters who have crossed this stage!”

Evadne looked up from the empty auditorium and frowned. “Don’t be so fanciful, Hilda. It’s a grotty little theatre on top of a grotty little pub. I don’t think the fact no-one has bothered to redecorate it since the Victorian era is enough to give it ‘atmosphere’”.

Hilda dropped her arms. “Now, don’t be such a wet blanket. It was very good of Flexney to allow us the use of the place.”

“For one night. And at such short notice!” Evadne started to coil up the cord for her tape recorder. “I really do not see the point.”

“The point is,” said Hilda cheerfully, “when we do our little tour of ‘A Musical Evening with Sherlock Holmes’ we can then put on the posters: opened in London to a packed house!” She traced out the imaginary poster in the air with her fingers and smiled at it admiringly.

“A ‘packed house’ of twenty people.” Evadne looked about. “That’s if we fill all the seats, of course.”

She heard footsteps and turned to see Mr. Ptolman re-entering the room. He had changed back into his ordinary clothes, and was carrying his costume in a bag over his arm.

Evadne smiled at him. “Ah, Tewkesbury. Thank you for this afternoon’s rehearsal—you were a splendid Watson.”

Mr. Ptolman beamed and nodded in acknowledgement of the praise. “Thank you. I must say that you were marvellous as Holmes. You make a most convincing gentleman.” He waved a hand towards Evadne’s lower regions. “Would you like a hand with your equipment before I go?”

Evadne raised her eyebrows and then realised Mr. Ptolman was indicating her tape recorder.

“That’s very kind. But I think I will be fine, dear.”

“Then I will see you both back at the hotel.” Mr. Ptolman gave them each a little bow and left again.

Evadne watched him go and then turned back to Hilda. “That’s another thing. Having to use taped music.”

“Well, there isn’t really room for an orchestra, is there?” said Hilda. “And at least you’ve got a piano on stage.” She gracefully twirled across to the concert grand and leant on it coquettishly. “Now come on, it’s going to be a wonderful night. You’ve written some lovely tunes and we’ve had a perfect rehearsal.”

Hilda straightened up and started to come downstage.

“The song you’ve given Irene Adler is so pretty.” She hummed the melody, gradually starting to add the lyrics.

 _“On the stage without a care_  
_I feel like I’m walking on air!”_

Hilda closed her eyes, reached for the high note… And the note turned into a scream as she stepped off the edge of the stage.

Evadne rushed forwards in horror. “Hilda!”

 

 

“How could you do this to me?” said Evadne later, as they waited outside the casualty department for their taxi to arrive.

Hilda touched her neck brace and winced.

“I’m very sorry,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thrown myself off a five-foot high stage if I’d known it was going to inconvenience you so much.”

Evadne looked a little abashed. “I just meant you saying you couldn’t go on.” She waved her hand. “You always go on! What about that time in Crewe?”

“On that occasion I had merely bruised my coccyx,” said Hilda with dignity. “I am not going to be able to reach all the high notes with this on.”

Evadne sighed. “It was bad enough my having to take over from Teddy as Holmes. I simply cannot do without an Irene Adler.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’ve put so such effort into this production! All that reading and research, and it’s been a disaster from start to finish. We’ll have to cancel the whole thing!”

Hilda reached across to pat her arm. “Now don’t give up so easily,” she said. “Flexney has lots of contacts. I’ll have a word with him—see if he can find a replacement.”

Evadne stared at her. “For _tonight?_ Without knowing the part?”

“We could cut it down to just one scene, and the singer could sight read the song,” said Hilda.

Evadne sighed again. “Oh, all right. We’ve come this far—perhaps it’s worth a try.”

 

 

“Well, break a leg!” said Hilda, coming into the dressing room.

Evadne looked up from her dressing table and gave Hilda’s neck brace a significant look.

Hilda answered with a weak smile. “Yes, maybe not...” She touched Evadne’s shoulder. “But you’re going to be wonderful—I’m sure of it.”

Evadne went back to powdering her face. “I’m glad you’re so certain. It’s five minutes before curtain-up, and there’s still no sign of your replacement. It’s going to be a complete fiasco and—”

She was interrupted by a hesitant knocking.

“Aha!” said Hilda, raising a finger.

“Thank _heavens!”_ said Evadne. She turned towards the door. “Do come in!”

A small gentleman stepped into the room, and Evadne’s face fell. “Oh, it’s you Flexney. Isn’t she here yet, then?”

Flexney shook his head. “I’m afraid not. But she has sent word she’s on the way. I assure you she’s a total professional and will be here for her entrance.”

“There you are, dear,” said Hilda soothingly. “There’s nothing to worry about!”

Evadne hesitated. “Well, I suppose so…”

“It will be _fine.”_ Hilda headed for the door, ushering Flexney in front of her. She paused at the threshold and turned. “This will be a performance to remember. Just you wait and see!”

And she and Flexney disappeared out into the corridor.

Evadne looked at her reflection and sighed heavily.

 

 

But once she and Mr. Ptolman were on the stage, Evadne’s anxiety began to fade somewhat.

It was indeed a full house, and an attentive audience. The opening duet about tidying the sitting room got a delightful round of applause. Evadne was able to lose herself in the part, only very occasionally remembering to cast an eye at the wings to see if she could spot Flexney or the replacement Irene.

Eventually though the moment arrived for Irene Adler’s entrance. Evadne cast an eye at the wings again but couldn’t spot anyone waiting. She stared in despair at Mr. Ptolman, who smiled weakly, gave Evadne a discreet and hopeful thumbs-up and hurriedly made his exit.

There was a dreadful pause. Evadne closed her eyes and _prayed._

And then there was a ripple of applause and she opened her eyes to find a woman in immaculate Victorian evening dress making her entrance.

Evadne breathed out in relief. She pulled herself together and studied Hilda’s replacement. An extraordinarily attractive woman. And an impressive outfit—the singer had apparently brought her own costume. Which was all to the good. The available costume wouldn’t have fitted well; she was even smaller than Hilda. She was younger too, in her thirties. Evadne was very pleased—this Miss Adler was far closer to the image in her head than Hilda had been.

The new arrival on the stage had graciously acknowledged the audience’s applause and was now making her way elegantly towards where Evadne stood in the centre. Evadne greatly approved— _definitely_ a professional. She watched her new colleague come closer, and waited for her to give the opening line of “Good evening. How lovely to see you again, Mr. Holmes.”

The woman smiled graciously as she came to a halt. “Good evening, sir...” she began in a soft American accent. She stopped abruptly and her eyes went very wide. “Good heavens! It’s Mr. Holmes! I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Evadne frowned, and revised her estimation of this singer’s professionalism. She took a deep breath. At least her Irene Adler was here—she could cope with some ad-libbing.

“Ah,” she said, thinking quickly. “Didn’t you receive my invitation?”

“Yes, I received word that someone was needed for a musical evening here but I never imagined…”

She approached Evadne and held out a hand.

“It is so wonderful to finally meet you properly.”

“The feeling is quite mutual.” They shook hands and Evadne took advantage of the lady’s proximity to have a whispered conversation. “Haven’t you seen a script at all?”

The singer looked taken aback. “No… I didn’t realise I needed to. I was simply told a gentleman was having a musical evening and I would be singing a song.”

Evadne groaned internally. “You at least know that you’re Irene Adler, I take it?”

The lady furrowed her brow. “Well, yes..?”

“Then I’m sure we can wing it,” said Evadne firmly. She took a step back and indicated to her companion that she should carry on.

“Oh…” She appeared a little taken aback but ‘Miss Adler’ rapidly became assured again. “How lovely to finally meet you properly, Mr. Holmes. Though I believe you attended my wedding, and I once had you on my couch!”

The audience tittered and Miss Adler glanced at them bemused. Evadne winced, and made a discreet ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture. Probably best to hurry this along, she thought.

“So why are you in London?” asked Evadne, enunciating distinctly and projecting to the back of the room.

“We are visiting my husband’s family,” said Miss Adler. A serious expression passed over her face. “We thought a brief stay would be safe—the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes would no longer have any interest in us.”

Evadne found herself rather touched by the sadness on the singer’s face. “You were never in any danger from Sherlock Holmes!” she said hotly. “He would not have taken the side of that ridiculous King! You are worth ten of him!” Evadne suddenly remembered the audience and caught herself, embarrassed by how passionate she was being about the characters she’d spent so much time with. But the room was quiet, the audience waiting.

“We both thank you for that,” said Miss Adler. She gazed at Evadne with a look of complete sincerity on her face.

Evadne felt a little thrown. They were quite far off the script now. She turned away and immediately saw the piano.

“So,” she said in relief, “now that you here I would love to finally hear you sing.”

The sadness left Miss Adler’s face and she beamed. “It would be my pleasure.”

Evadne gestured towards the piano and they both moved towards it.

Miss Adler looked enquiringly at Evadne though as they reached it. “I was given to understand the violin was your instrument, Mr. Holmes.”

Unfortunately it wasn’t Evadne’s, so some minor alterations had had to be made to the canon. “That is correct,” she said. “But in fact the piano is my better instrument of the two.” Evadne sat down on the stool. “I also play the banjo,” she announced, temporarily forgetting she was supposed to be Holmes.

Miss Adler’s eyebrows rose quite considerably. “How… unusual.”

Evadne shifted on the piano stool and fiddled a little with her costume, trying to get comfortable.

“Are you all right?” asked Miss Adler politely.

Evadne looked up. “It’s just that I don’t often wear trousers. I’m more used to a dress,” she whispered.

Miss Adler appeared momentarily taken aback but she smiled encouragingly. “Please do not worry. I know several gentleman who feel the way you do. And you know that I myself sometimes prefer to dress as a young man.”

Evadne paused in her attempt to find a suitable position and replayed the conversation in her head. Surely the singer couldn’t think..? “I prefer to wear dresses because I am a _woman.”_

Miss Adler looked completely nonplussed now. “I see.”

“I mean…” Evadne indicated her face, and Miss Adler leaned forward to study her delicate bone structure. She pulled back again in surprise and a little confusion.

“Oh! I _see.”_ Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Does… does Dr. Watson know..?”

Evadne frowned. Miss Adler must have experienced performers playing the opposite sex before.

“Naturally he knows,” she said.

“And… he doesn’t mind?”

Evadne considered this for a moment. Mr. Ptolman had been terribly understanding about the situation, though she was aware he’d been disappointed a major duet had had to be dropped. She just didn’t have the range.

“Well, I think he might have preferred a man,” she said. “After all, there are things a man can do that a woman can’t.”

“Yes…” said Miss Adler faintly.

“But I would say he is satisfied with my performance overall.”

“How wonderful.” Miss Adler cleared her throat and patted the piano rather vigorously. “Well, I am glad you are both so content with your situation. Would you… like me to sing the song now?”

“Oh, yes. That would be splendid!” said Evadne.

She handed up the sheet music and Miss Adler took it and looked through it.

“Yes, I think I can manage this.” She took her position, and smiled and nodded, indicating she was ready. Evadne returned the smile, turned her attention to the keyboard and started to play. When she reached the end of the introduction, she looked up at her companion.

And Miss Adler began to sing.

Evadne was startled. It was immediately apparent that this Miss Adler was a true contralto as she should be, rather than a mezzo-soprano like Hilda. Evadne mentally kicked herself for not thinking to ask Flexney—she’d just assumed. There weren’t many contraltos about these days. But Miss Adler was confidently transposing the music as she went. Evadne relaxed, and began to concentrate on listening.

Miss Adler had a beautiful voice. A full, rich tone. But there was more to her singing than that. The way she interpreted the song… She appeared to be finding a depth in it that Evadne wasn’t entirely sure she’d written. The piece was being transformed into something far better than it had been during the rehearsals. Evadne was entranced. Both Hilda and herself were talented, experienced professionals but it had to be said that Miss Adler was something exceptional. This woman truly belonged on the stage.

The last note floated away, and for a long moment there was nothing but a hushed silence. But then one person began clapping, and everyone joined in, enthusiastically following their example.

Evadne stood up to add her heartfelt contribution to the applause. Miss Adler acknowledged the audience and then turned to Evadne to give her a little curtsey and a beaming smile.

“That was _wonderful!”_ declared Evadne. “Thank you so much!”

“It was my pleasure,” said Miss Adler, inclining her head. “But I suppose now it’s time for me to go.” She half-turned to the wings. “By the way, have you a case on at the moment, Mr. Holmes? I look forward to reading Dr. Watson’s account of it.”

Evadne laughed at this last piece of ad-libbing. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have a case at the moment.”

“What a pity,” said Miss Adler. “Sherlock Holmes should always have a mystery to solve.”

And with one last smile she made her exit.

 

 

After that, the rest of the performance went splendidly and at the end, when Evadne and Mr. Ptolman took their bows, the applause was long and exuberant. There were calls of “Miss Adler! Miss Adler!” from the audience, and Evadne kept glancing towards the wings, waiting for her to appear.

Flexney came onto the stage with a small bouquet of flowers, which he presented to Evadne while Mr. Ptolman smiled and clapped.

“Oh, how charming!” said Evadne. “You certainly didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, I felt so bad that my friend didn’t manage to get here,” said Flexney. “I was so relieved you found someone yourself.”

“Someone myself..?” said Evadne in bewilderment. But Flexney had already taken a few steps back to join in with the applause.

 

 

“Fabulous singer,” said Hilda, when she and Evadne were settled in the pub downstairs for a quick celebratory drink. “Flexney really outdid himself.” She cocked an eye at Evadne. “Do you think she was… better than me?”

Evadne looked at her friend and decided on tact. “You’re both very different singers, dear. It wouldn’t be fair for me to compare her with you.”

“No…” Hilda giggled and took a sip of her sherry. Evadne discreetly rolled her eyes.

Mr. Ptolman came back from the bar carrying a pint of Guinness and what looked like a piece of card wrapped in paper.

“Do join us, Tewkesbury!” cried Hilda.

“Thank you, Dame Hilda.” He sat down, set his drink on the table and passed the piece of card to Evadne. “Your friend Mr. Armstrong found this backstage. He thinks it must be for you.”

Evadne took the card, puzzled. She unfolded the paper covering it and found that it was actually a photograph. A formally posed picture of a family: a woman in her thirties, with her husband, two small children and a baby in arms.

Hilda peered at it. “That’s Flexney’s singer, isn’t it?” She looked more closely. “Isn’t that clever? You could almost believe it was a real Victorian photograph. And what’s that inscription..?”

Evadne cleared her throat and read the inscription aloud. “My dear Mr. Holmes, the doctor’s story relates you kept my last photograph. I thought you might like another as a companion to it. With my greatest admiration and respect…” She stared at the picture.

“I haven’t got my readers on,” said Hilda. “What’s that signature?”

“I. Norton,” said Evadne faintly.

Hilda furrowed her brow. “I don’t think I know her, dear. She is a professional?”

“Oh, yes,” said Evadne. “But I believe she may have been better known by her maiden name.”


End file.
